“Oh, great. She’s drinking already,” Jax joked. “You try raising three boys in a barn and see if you don’t start drinking,” Phoebe reminded him. “I’m dealing with an eighteen-year-old, a seven-year-old, and Joey,” Jax said. “I may join you.” He took her glass and gulped it down. Phoebe laughed, her heart full and light. “That’s why you’re my favorite,” she told him, patting his arm.
